


The Innocence of Ignorance

by Kashimalin



Category: Midnight Cinderella (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Little Kids Falling In Love, based on the Secret Agent event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 08:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19169281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kashimalin/pseuds/Kashimalin
Summary: The story of a young daughter, left alone during a party – and of the boy who comes to your aid.





	The Innocence of Ignorance

You are a young girl, stuck in a room with no means of escape.

It’s not that you are trapped in there. The door has no lock, so it is easy to turn the knob and step out into the hallway. The mansion is yours to explore, if you desire.

There’s only one problem: you have no idea how to get to the ballroom. Earlier, the sounds of violins and flutes had been your guide, but you found yourself facing dead ends and locked doors. Barely able to find the room you had started in, you decided that it was best to stay put until your parents returned from the party.

That is where you sit now, having gone through the books and blocks that you were given. Your parents had claimed you would be bored if you went down to the party, but you wonder if it would be any less terrible than your current plight. Falling back onto the rug, you stare idly at the ceiling, wishing you knew how much time had passed.

Suddenly, the door clicks. You sit up, watching the door, holding your breath as it opens.

_Is it my parents? Did they decide they wanted to bring me?_

Someone’s head peers around the door, and it is not the familiar, smiling faces of your mother and father. Instead, it is a young boy, seemingly a couple years older than you. As he steps in further, you can see him balancing a tray on his hip. The two of you make eye contact, and you are struck by the beauty of his gaze – a deep, midnight blue that draws you in.

“Hello.” He smiles gently, and you find yourself returning it.

“Hello there.” You settle into a kneeling position, watching as he sets the tea tray in the space between the two of you. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your parents told me. I was worried that you might be lonely.” His hands move to pour tea into the waiting cups and lift a saucer towards you. “I thought I should bring you something to drink and ask if you want company.”

“That would be nice!” You accept the tea with a nod of thanks, lifting the cup and taking a tentative sip. A surprisingly sweet taste runs across your tongue, and a soothing sensation courses through your body and warms you right up.

“Is it good?” The boy smiles at you, a knowing look glittering in his eyes.

“It is!” You cannot help drinking the rest of it away. “Did you make it yourself?”

“I’m afraid not. I had to beg the staff for the tea set, and then asked them to make some tea to fill it.”

“Did my parents tell you to do that? And why?”

“Your parents met me at the party when they came to greet my parents. My name is Byron Wagner. My family owns this mansion and is hosting the party downstairs.”

“Oh!” You clap a hand over your mouth, all your etiquette lessons rushing back. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—!”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Byron says, amused. “I’ve had most of the party guests fawning over me all night, because I’m the child of the hosts, so having someone my age talk to me without any formalities is refreshing.”

“But we’re not the same age! I’m nine.” You make a face. “You’re totally older.”

“Really? I’m ten, and I’m turning eleven soon. I’m only two years older than you.” He smiles as you place down your empty teacup. “Do you want anything else to go with that tea? Or do you want some more?”

You shake your head – but the lie is short-lived as your stomach answers, too. The low rumble makes you bite your lip and flush with embarrassment. “Maybe.”

“Then let’s get you some food. Come with me. We’re going to the party!”  

You gladly take his hand, sticking close to Byron as you follow him through the wide, dim corridors. He leads you towards the music, the volume growing louder with each step you take until you finally step out into a brightly lit balcony.

“Wow!” You let go of Byron’s hand and rush towards the marble railing, peering through the gaps to look out over the grand ballroom. A golden chandelier illuminates the crowd below, dressed up in their most elegant attire as they mingle and maneuver through the gilded space. An orchestra plays in the corner, their music floating up towards the ceiling. Several tables with food are lined up across one side, and your stomach growls again as Byron comes up alongside you, leaning against the railing with a smile.

“This is my favorite place,” he admits. “There aren’t any children my age at these parties, so I come up here and pretend I’m a spy. I pick someone and follow their movements, trying to remember who they talk to and what they eat.”

“Is it fun?”

“I think so. It passes the time, anyway. Now, do you want me to get you some food?”

“Yes, please!”

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

You open your mouth to request your deepest desire, but catch yourself in time, biting your lip shut. Byron smirks as he leans down, peering at your expression.

“Don’t be shy. What do you want?”

“… Sweets.”

You watch him struggle to hold back his laughter, and pout up at him as he walks by you and descends a staircase around the corner. You watch him as he moves through the ballroom, stopping a couple times as people greet him and bow in his direction. He returns their gestures, but keeps moving through the throngs of people towards his goal. You swear you can still see the smile on his face as he picks up two plates, loading one with small meats, grapes, and crackers, and the other with a wide sampling of the available desserts. He carefully balances them as he weaves through the crowd one more, returning to your hideaway.

“I saw you watching me.” He grins as he hands you the dessert plate, settling down on the floor next to you.

“It’s not hard when you’re the only person I know,” you say as you take a bite of a cupcake. He follows suit, and the two of you eat in relative silence as you gaze down at the party.

“Which ones are your parents?” you ask him. He leans forward, scanning the crowd before pointing.

“There they are.” He points, and you follow. At first, you can’t make them out – but then you spy a man with handsome features and rich dark hair. You glance at Byron, then back at the man.

“You look a lot like your dad.”

He frowns. “I get that a lot.”

“Sorry!”

“It’s fine. Now, where are your parents?”

You point after a moment of looking, then gasp. “They’re so beautiful under all the lights!”

Byron agrees – your parents are certainly beautiful. You can’t recall a time you have seen them this vibrant, dressed up and mingling with the people that Byron calls the country’s finest. You wish you could hear your mother speaking, wondering if she’s talking in another language like she does so well – or your father, who has a knack for seeing little details about people, using them as conversation starters. You mention this to Byron, who tells you of similar talents that his parents have.  

You get so caught up talking that neither of you hear the crowd grow quiet, and the musician’s steady crescendo as they start up a waltz. At the polite applause, the two of you finally turn, seeing that the crowd has parted to the sides of the ballroom. Byron’s parents are in the center of the dancefloor, moving in perfect time with the rhythm. Before long, they gesture for another couple to join them, laughing and smiling as they step out.

“Look!” You stand, smiling wide. “It’s my parents!”

The two of them join Byron’s parents, keeping a polite distance. Your mother nods her head in thanks to Byron’s parents before they too join the music. The only thing that finally distracts you is a tap on your shoulder, and you turn to see Byron holding out his hand towards you.

“Do you want to dance too? After all, it would be a waste if you went to a ball and didn’t dance.”

You grip his hand in yours, smiling wide. “Yes!”   
“I’m honored that you are willing to dance with me, my lady.” His eyes are glowing as he leads you away from the empty plates, guiding you towards him. It’s clear that neither of you are professional dancers as he begins to lead, but the two of you are laughing too hard to care. Both of you tumble about the corridor, intimating the couples you see whenever you look down at the ballroom. At one point, Byron attempts to stand straight and take on a dignified air like some of the men below, but you only laugh harder at his tidy posture and posh voice.

As you dance on and on, you find yourself growing tired. Byron notices this and brings you both to a stop, taking a step back and bowing at the waist.  

“Thank you for the dance, my lady.”

You wait for him to rise before curtseying to him. “It was my pleasure, my lord.”

“I’ll be right back.” He moves to collect the plates, refusing your offer to help as he heads back down into the ballroom. Your eyes follow him through the crowd—

Until you see your parents heading out through a set of grand doors, leaving the room. Your face pales, and you rush to the staircase to meet Byron as he reaches the final stair.

“Byron! My parents are coming to get me!” His eyes widen, and he grabs your hand and pulls you back the way you came. “Will we make it back before them?”

“Absolutely.” He runs through the hallways, glancing back to make sure you are still behind every time you turn a corner. It’s not long before the two of you burst through the doorway, collapsing into a heap on the floor to catch your breath. However, that doesn’t last long – Byron lets out a laugh a moment later, and suddenly, the two of you have fallen victim to helpless, giddy laughter. It’s only when your parents appear in the doorway that the two of you manage to stop.   

“You seem like you had fun,” your mother says as she kneels down. “Did Byron play with you?”

“Yes!” you cry out. “We had tea and we talked and we danced!”

“It sounds like you both had lots of fun, then.” Your father looks to Byron, nodding his way. “Thank you for playing with our daughter. You didn’t have to.”

“It was no trouble.” Byron says, shaking his head as he smiles affectionately. “I enjoyed her company. I hope that I can continue to spend time with her while you stay with us for a few days.”

“Yes, mom! Please? Please? Can I keep playing with Byron?”

“I don’t see why not. I’m glad that they have a child your age, so that you’re not bored.” She smiles down at you. “Say good-bye, and that you will see him tomorrow.”

“Bye-bye, Byron! See you tomorrow!”

“I’m already looking forward to it.”  

* * *

You and Byron are fast friends. Only after a couple days in each other’s company, your parents say that it’s like the two of you have never been apart a day in your lives. You sit next to each other at every meal, stay up late playing, and talk about anything and everything. The empty hours the two of you have while your parents are busy are filled with adventure and amusement.

Today, Byron takes you deep into the manor gardens, further than you’ve gone before. Every inch of the garden is immaculate, and you can’t help admiring every single detail. Your gardens back in the Northern Country cannot compare to the elegance of the East. The colder climates leave little room for flowers to grow, and Northern soil lends itself well to hardier flowers. The East, on the other hand, has a mild climate – pleasant and refreshing, and you can feel it as the sun shines down on the two of you.

“The flowers bloom brightest next month,” Byron explains, “but the gardens are still colorful. We can at least go under the rose arches. Look up when we do.”

You do as he asks, gasping as you watch the color of the roses change every few steps. Familiar red becomes a soft pink, then transitions brilliant yellow before softening into a delicate white.

“These white ones are my favorite,” Byron comments as you come to a stop. “It almost looks like they’re glowing when the moonlight illuminates them at night.”

“Really?”

“Really. You can even see them from the balcony if you look hard enough. Or, I’ll come out to the garden to look at the stars, instead of gazing at them from my room.” He pauses a moment, making you turn to meet his gaze.

“… Speaking of the stars, would you like to come see them with me at some point?” You see the blush on his cheeks, and the sheepish smile on his lips. “Not the roses, necessarily – but the stars. Only if you want to, of course.”

“I would love to, Byron!” Your response is immediate, and you seize his other hand. “Let’s do it!”

“Then let’s do it tomorrow night. Meet me outside my room after dinner. Bring your pillows, because we’re going to the best place to view them from.”

“Got it. I’ll be there!” You squeeze his hands a little tighter, warm underneath your fingers. “Promise!”

* * *

Byron opens the door that overlooks the highest balcony in the mansion. You let out a cry as you stare up at the wide open sky, amazed at how many stars you can see. You are unable to stop looking, so Byron takes your hand, pulling you further out. The door swings shut, leaving the two of you outside on the warm summer night.

“This is my favorite place in the whole house,” Byron explains as he also looks up at the sky. “I’m glad that I finally get to share it with someone.”

His second comment makes you glance at him for just a moment, and you catch the content smile on his face. He eventually looks away, turning that smile towards you.

“Want to lay out the pillows and blankets?”

You nod. Byron goes to spread out the quilt, and you toss the pillows on top. He lets you lie down first before following suit, settling in comfortably. Your hands find each other’s without hesitation, fingers lacing through each other’s and holding tight.

As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you would swear that there are more stars than you have ever seen before. A gentle breeze occasionally rustles the trees, lending to the peaceful ambiance of the outdoor scene.

“The stars calm me down,” Byron begins absently. “I think they are the most beautiful thing. I hate cloudy nights because they block the sky.”

You can understand his feelings. The unfathomable number of glittering dots against a beautiful dark backdrop is a sight to behold. You had taken the stars for granted, never appreciating them in this way before. Now, the sight is striking, and you savor the moment, savor the stars and the feeling of his hand in yours.  

A moment becomes a minute, and many pass in comfortable silence. Once in a while, you or Byron would shift on the blanket, and the two of you move even closer, but neither of you dare to pull away. Without noise and distractions, neither of you know how much time has passed. Hours could have slipped by without either of you noticing.

However, a movement in the sky catches both your gazes, causing you both to jump and cry out in unison.

“A shooting star!”

Your gaping expressions are tilted in awe as a trail of light flashes across the sky. As you look to Byron, you see him squeeze his eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

“I made my wish,” he exhales, his own eyes like stars as he looks to you. “Make yours!”

You nod, holding his hand tighter as you ask the star your deepest desire – one that worried you as the inevitable day drew ever closer.

_I wish I didn’t have to leave Byron’s side._

* * *

Despite the shooting star, time marched on mercilessly.

You are a sobbing mess on the last day. Your parents struggled to pack, since you had done everything you could to hinder their progress. They were only able to finish when Byron came to ask if you wanted to eat lunch, and you had happily followed and not consider the consequences. Your uncontrollable sobbing nearly drowned out your parents’ final good-byes.

“We’re so sorry,” they say, holding you tight. “She’s never like this with anybody.”

“It’s perfectly fine.” Byron’s parents wave it off, smiling. “We’re sad to see her go, Byron seemed to be enjoying himself…”

The four of them make polite, humored commentary about your relationship, waiting out your heavy sobs. Your eyes are filled with tears, blocking your vision to the point that you do not notice Byron stepping towards you until his hands take yours. He lifts them gently, and the warmth of his fingers makes you look up and gaze at his watercolor figure.

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs as he brings your hands to his lips, breath hot against your cool fingers. “I don’t like seeing you cry. It makes me upset. Please don’t cry.”

“B-but,” you wail in protest, “I have to leave! I don’t wanna go!” You bow your head, trying to hide your cascading tears – but Byron tucks a hand under your chin, lifting your gaze.

“Don’t cry because you have to leave,” he says quietly, soft and reassuring. “Instead, I want you to look forward to the time when we can meet again.” He drops your hands, swiftly removing his handkerchief from his pocket. With delicate motions, Byron wipes your tears away.

“B-But what if I don’t get to see you again?”

“We will see each other again. I promise you.” His words are firm and sincere as your tears threaten to spill over again.

“Byron—”

He pulls you into a hug, his hold tight and comforting. You vaguely hear your parents saying something, and Byron’s parents responding enthusiastically – but as he squeezes tighter, all you can focus on is his embrace and his next words.

“You better visit.”

You nod into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. “I promise I’ll visit.”

“And you’ll bring all those games you talked about with me. And your favorite books.”

“And you better visit me sometimes, too! You have to bring all your paintings and your favorite puzzles!”

The demands you make remind you of your happier memories, of the time you shared together. You find yourselves smiling when you pull apart. Byron laces his fingers through yours, refusing to separate completely.

“I’ll walk you out.”

The two of you follow your parents to the waiting carriage. You feel Byron’s fingers tighten with each step, his knuckles turning white. Your parents climb into the carriage first, giving the two of you a moment to say good-bye.

Without hesitation, you turn to hug Byron once more, burying yourself in his embrace. You desperately want to stay with him – but you had to part. It stings when he released you, seeing his handsome face marred with sadness.

Byron supports you as you lift yourself into the coach, your fingers releasing at the last possible moment. The footman folds up the stool and shuts the door, hopping on the back of the carriage.

As you hear the reins crack, you throw yourself towards the window. Your mother seizes you about your waist, fearing that you might fall out. You lean out, watching Byron as the coachman urges the horses forward. He waves first, and you immediately fling out an arm to respond.

You wave until he’s a speck in the distance. When the carriage turns the corner, he is finally hidden by the trees. Then and only then do you retract your arm and ease yourself back to your seat, staring out the window at the pines as they roll by.

You wonder if you should have asked the star something else. If you should have begged the star to not give you more time and prevent the inevitable…

But to bring you and Byron together again soon. 


End file.
